


Fallen like leaves

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: Ginny wants Mike to be her first. Mike wants her to be his last.AU fic: with a shorter age gap, Mike knowing Ginny since childhood.





	Fallen like leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I was supposed to update my previous fics but I guess the overwhelming response to the appeal just made me decide it was time to post my 25th work in this fandom.  
> Please help Pitch Street Team in their renewal efforts.
> 
> In this fic: She's 19 years and Mike is 19 + 7 = 26.  
> I've been working on this for a while and it wasn't easy to publish this without apprehensions. The age difference was one factor, and the character dynamics the other. I've been wanting to write a childhood friends AU for a while and somehow this just worked.

_“We are young and we are old we're fallen like leaves”_

_~ “Lucky Love” Ace of Base_

* * *

* * *

 

Mike can attest first-hand that are certain memories that inscribe themselves through a man’s mind with an indelible clarity. Vivid, retrievable, triggered by the slightest stimuli and re-liveable like a scene from a movie.

He doesn’t remember who notified him of Coach Baker’s accident. He doesn’t remember if he drove to the site or if he was driven by friends.

He barely remembers the flashing sirens and the paramedics. He somewhat remembers Coach’s truck, dented, half-propped over the banking like a crushed and discarded soda can – wrecked in a way that could only terrify. He vaguely remembers the shattered windshield; blood covered glass debris lying on the hood like splattered rubies and diamonds.

One day when he is old and memory fails him, he may forget the details branded into his memory: that busted lip, the smattered skin, the drying blood on her forehead. He may not recall the blood and dirt stains on her baseball uniform.

But he knows that he’ll never forget the sight of seventeen-year-old girl Ginny Baker huddled on the pavement following her father's corpse being carried away in a body bag, loss and confusion haunting her big, innocent, brown eyes.

That image pops up when he catches a glimpse of a solitary figure by the side of the road as he drives past the city limits.

His reaction is instinctive, unthought. He slams the brakes; the truck comes to a screeching halt. The rear-view mirror confirms his doubts; even if the vague reflection leaves much to speculation, that posture – it’s unmistakeable.

_Head down, spine hunched, arms hugging knees._

He shifts the gear into reverse, slowing the car to a halt as he comes in line with her, lowering the window.

“Baker?” He calls. “Rookiebean?”

 

* * *

 

Coach Baker was tough, but his daughter was a hellion.

She was about as adorable as little girls got.

Happy caramel skin, a mop of unruly curls for hair. A cherubic face with a stubborn-looking chin, round chubby cheeks and dimples that made suckers out of the toughest guys. Bright shiny eyes that made everything seem better.

It was a new day. New little league, new ballpark, new school, new town, new state - same old story as far as Mike was concerned.

It was Mike’s first day trying out (and it might as well be the ‘only’ day, given his mother’s history with jobs and places) and he presumed that Coach Baker was a single Dad at first.  (And what else was he supposed to think of a bald, stern, non-nonsense man shadowed by a little girl?)

She wasn’t sitting in the stands or clinging to the mothers like the tagalong sisters of his teammates. She wasn’t even sitting quietly in the dugout, playing with dolls like he’d seen the daughters of his previous coaches do. She was hugging the bottom rail of the dugout by her pudgy arms with her tiny feet scuffing over the dusty concrete.

She _looked_ harmless enough, but, Mike should have known better.  Her attention was entirely on the infield. _The whole time._ She surveyed everything like the general of an army planning an invasion. She didn’t get distracted unless it was to flash wide, captivating, and winning grins at him whenever she caught his glances.

She was _three._

Unlike his offspring, Coach Baker wasn’t a smiler.  He didn’t placate or patronize. He inspected potential little leaguers like they were enlistees for the army. There wasn’t much kindness about his face (certainly no _Dave-Grissom-of-Dave-Grissom-Motors_ ) but there was certainly _something_ about him. It encouraged the little league aspirants to step up their game and even Mike got caught up in it. He didn’t wheedle good performance with reassurances as much as he coaxed it out with his scrutinizing glances.

“Catcher, huh?” He snorted, when Mike told him which position he wanted to play. “We’ll see.”

So, Mike showed, and showed and showed again.

Coach Baker made a facial gesture that Mike wasn’t sure, but it might have been a smile.  

Blip Sanders would tell him two things after he got a curt nod from Coach Baker. A) That it was in fact a smile and that Mike had to be the first kid that Blip had seen who’d won Coach Baker’s approval so early in and B) “Don’t play catch with Ginny Baker – at least not without yo’ gear on.”

“Why?” Mike asked.

Blip smiled mysteriously.

“She’s still a baby.” Mike argued. “Can she even throw?”

Blip’s mysterious smile grew more mysterious. “Just…” Blip sighed. “Don’t play catch with her, alright? And she’s sneaky – and cute. She’ll fool you into it. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Mike thought it was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard.

Interestingly Blip wasn’t the only one to tell him that. Salvi, Sonny and Dusty would repeat the same exact words about Ginny Baker. (Mike didn’t know that he was about to learn the meaning of the phrase: ‘curiosity killed the cat’ pretty soon.)

Just _after_ Coach took off to the left outfield to give to Sonny and Salvi a sound earful for horsing around, Mike felt something tug at his butt pocket. He spun around and found the little girl. She lifted a baseball, looking at him with a peculiarly expectant look that reminded him of her Dad.

Clearly, she wanted to throw.

When he didn’t react, she beamed a wide, dimpled gummy smile that stirred a great amount of willingness. (Mike was accustomed to being looked down on as white trash. No one really smiled at him with affection like that.)

He recalled Blip’s words and they didn’t make any sense. She was no higher than his thigh. That baseball was three times the size her hand. 

(She was three, right? How bad could it be?)

A surge of indulgent curiosity silenced the echo of Blip’s warnings. Mike nodded and walked backwards, about five feet. She shook her head, those curls bounced around her face emphatically. He obliged and moved farther away until she nodded.

He was about twenty feet away when she pulled her arm back, her face screwing up with concentration.

There’s no way that she could not possibly propel the ball _that_ far. Nonetheless he half-bent his knees with glove open, positioning to catch with an encouraging smile on his face while considering what words would be appropriate to console a little girl whose projectile was about to teeter into the dirt.

_Thwack!_

Something very hard and forceful hit him straight between the eyes. Mike saw stars at first, he blinked them away, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. He gaped in horror at the cheeky, wide, triumphant grin on Ginny Baker’s face. She skipped and danced away and skipped and danced back having fetched another ball.

Unable to find it in himself to begrudge a three-year-old, Mike jogged back further to about thirty feet.

_Thwack!_

That one hit his shoulder.

_Thwack!_

That one hit his chest.

_Thwack!_

That one almost got him in the fly.

Four balls and four sore spots later Mike learned the lesson the hard way.

_Don’t play catch with Ginny Baker – at least not without protective gear on._

 

* * *

 

Ginny’s chin snaps up, her wide surprised eyes narrowing with recognition. Mike is a little taken aback by her appearance. Agreed, it had been two-ish years since he’d gotten a proper look at Ginny but he didn’t recall that girly makeup was something she was into; he was somewhat certain that strappy, flowy, paisley-printed dresses were not her style and he is a hundred percent sure that she’s not a push-up bra person.

(Her breasts, like …they’re – noticeable.) He feels like a creep at first then he’s incensed. 

“What are you doing out here?” He barks, a little louder than he intended. “You know damned well it’s not safe!”

Her face switches to irritation. He can’t see her expressions in the fading light of the sun but he braces for her to holler the ‘Quit treating me like I’m a little girl’ at ear-splitting levels like she usually does. Instead, her hand reaches up to her cheek in a swiping action. It’s only when he hears a loud sniffle over the running engine of his truck that Mike realizes she’s been crying.

He quickly shifts gear, parks the car and gets out, walking up to her feeling a growing sense of dread and worry.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t just baseballs.

The first dinner he ate at the Baker’s residence, she flung peas at him.

(It started out as the same old story but with a different ending.) Jackie didn’t show up to fetch him after practice. Mike parroted the whole car trouble, no money for bus-fare sob story. Instead of offering him bus fare or dropping him to the trailer park, Coach offered (no, he stated) that Mike would join his family for dinner.

And that was how he ended up as a target practice for a spunky toddler at the Baker family dinner table.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ Three in a row, into his hair.

Will Baker snorted milk out of his nose in hilarity.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ Three in a row, on his nose.

“Ginnybean!” Mrs. Baker chided. “We don’t do that.”

But Ginny _bean_ wasn’t one to accept correction. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ Three in a row, on the side of his face.

“Little girl!” Coach Baker thundered.

Ginny shrivelled with sheepishness, her chin dropped and her face disappeared under a curtain of untameable curls.

“What do we say?” Coach demanded. His voice was three times softer but nonetheless authoritative.

“Sowwie Mikey.” Came a tiny voice from somewhere. Mike blinked at the faceless wild mane. That voice couldn’t have come from anyone else on the table.

He thanked Mrs. Baker for the napkin to wipe his face, and then turned to stare at Ginny until she lifted her face at grinned at him quietly (and she really loved doing that, Mike noticed. Anywhere and everywhere, should he bump into the Bakers, it seemed like that big happy smile was a permanent fixture on her face. She had the entire lot of little leaguers wrapped around her tiny little fingers by that smile alone. Though, Blip insisted that her smiles were widest and most frequent for Mike.)

“She talks?” Mike blurted, looking at the Bakers.

An uncharacteristic sound escaped Coach. Mike couldn’t believe it – but the man actually chuckled. Will had an incredulous frown on his face like he couldn’t believe that Mike hadn’t known it all along. Janet Baker was amused. “Of course, she talks!” She giggled.

Well, in his defence, Mike had never heard her speak.

“She’s just shy, ‘s all.” Janet beamed at her daughter, collecting all the spattered peas. “Ginnybean talked before she walked.”

“And you don’t wanna get her started.” Will hissed. “Now, there’s no stopping her.”

Having already learned his lesson by ignoring one warning related to Ginny Baker, Mike wasn’t going to ignore the other.

Not that it made things easier when Ginny _bean_ finally got started on her chatter.

She literally never stopped talking.

 

* * *

 

“What’s the matter?” He calls to her. “You didn’t make the draft?”

When he reaches her, he gets a clear view of her face. Ginny’s looking up at him with what looks like derision and it makes no sense. There was no scope for him to have annoyed her – not yet. 

“Okay, Baker,” He declares, drawing a circle around her face. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve all that hate, so how ‘bout you enlighten me?”

He steps forward and his foot bumps against a suitcase. It looks heavy.

“What the fu-u-u-” His inner programming (in Coach Baker’s voice: _“You better watch your tongue around my little girl, boy!”_ ) auto-corrects. “-u-dge? Are you leaving town?”

She sniffles. “You can cuss, Lawson.” She retorts bitterly. “Pop’s not around to smack you.”

(The thing about Ginny’s voice: it had a peculiar husky-sweet quality with a whispery childish undertone. Very…bedroomy – ) “Where are you going?” He says, inwardly censuring himself.

“Anywhere.” She answers in a small voice.

“Anywhere?” Mike echoes, peeling off his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. He  _tsks_ , shaking his head,  smacks her elbow. She grumbles something underbreath but shifts to accommodate him on the bench of the sorriest bus stop he’d seen this side of the country.

“Yeah.” She wrenches the jacket off and drops it on his lap.

“Why?” Mike flaps it out and drapes it over her shoulders again.

“Why not?” She shouts, flinging the jacket on his face.

“I’m not deaf!” Mike shouts back, using the jacket to swat her arm.

She pouts angrily and crosses her arms. He drapes the jacket around her and gives her a pointed glare not to contend.

 

* * *

 

Coach Baker may have been a hard man, but deep down he was caring and perceptive. He took interest in Mike’s grades and general wellbeing. Mike saw results through his draconian coaching regimens and wasn't inclined to crib like the other boys did.

It was sheer luck that Mike stayed on in Tarboro for four months. Somehow Jackie had found a well-paying job as a temp (and yeah, he did find it peculiar that his mother’s boss came over to ‘visit’ so often, but) he was just happy to be on one team and play baseball without being entangled in his Mom’s scams. (Mike loved his mom, but he was old enough to know what she made him do bordered on illegal.) He missed San Diego, but he liked _not_ being a delinquent more. 

Eventually, inconsistency won out and she slipped back to her old habits.

Coach had a grasp on Jackie at the outset. Whatever ingenious ploy she concocted, he wasn’t one to be fooled. Jackie’s sob stories and excuses did not faze him. He didn’t fall for Mike’s fibs to con money out of him either. Another man would have penalized Mike for his mother’s sins, but Bill Baker neither forbade him from playing nor questioned him on his mother’s activities.  At best, he made Mike do extra laps around the ballpark as a punishment for turning up late and at worst he dropped him home if Mike’s mother didn’t turn up.

But, a confrontation was inevitable.

And, as always, Jackie announced that she was going pull Mike out of the team and they were leaving town (again). Having seen this scene play out so many times in his short life, Mike resignedly trudged to pack up his things.

And then Coach dealt.

It wasn’t the usual cajoling: ‘Don’t be impulsive, Miss Lawson’, or the fatalistic: ‘You’re making a mistake’. It was a clear warning: “You got a choice to make, Miss Lawson.” Coach said, calmly. “If you wanna be there for your son or not, because _he_ is staying right here.”

Jackie was stumped. So was Mike.

“I know you love Mikey,” He said. “But if you don’t get your act together, make no mistake, I’ll be calling child services.”

Coach’s face was firm but Mike saw a rare display of emotion in Coach’s eyes. It was – concern.

For him.

Bill Baker was no sympathizing father figure but Mike would forever be grateful to him for taking that stand. It was more than what is biological father ever did.

 

* * *

 

 

As a rule, Mike doesn’t pester girls. But Ginny’s a whole other level of girl. She’s always been his favourite person and if she’s unhappy, he’ll be damned if he didn’t do everything in his power to fix it. Of course, he can’t do a damn thing if she didn’t tell him what the problem was. Pleading, coaxing, yelling, bargaining, blackmailing – all proves ineffective. Mike doesn’t really know how to extract intel beyond that. Usually he’s never had to resort to such measures, usually people (women) just offer it to him, unasked.

Frustrated he decides the least he can do is get her into the safety of his car, away from the damned mosquitoes.

“Let’s go.” He says, tugging her elbow.

“No.”

“Are you seriously waving me off?”

She crosses her arms and pouts, refusing to look at him.

“Okay then I’ll stay.” He nags.

“No.”

“One of those things are gonna happen, Rookie.” He declares.

“Or the bus’ll come and I’ll get on it, go far, far away. You won’t see me again and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.” She spits.

That’s ridiculous. He’ll always worry about her. Especially if he doesn’t see her again. He can’t imagine a life without her annoyingly adorable presence in it. (But he won’t tell her that - she looks so serious.)

“I thought you weren’t gonna come in till next week?” She sniffles.

“They released me early.” He sighed, rubbing his recently injured knee. “I’ve got till spring to recover and get back in shape.”

She looks with concern at his knee and then looks up at his face. Sad, for him.

“How’s it been for you?” He asks

“I made the final draft.”

Mike is taken aback. “Really?”

“Yeah…” She shrugs dolefully.

“Congrats Baker!” He thumps her back ecstatically. “Hey! Aren’t you happy?”

“I guess.” She mumbles.

“Are you kidding?” Mike is astonished at her sedate answer. “A couple of years down you’re gonna be the first woman in the majors!”

She makes a cynical grunting noise.

“Isn’t that the dream?” He asks, with a frown.

“I guess.” She replies sullenly. “I’m not going, though.”

 

* * *

 

The Bakers gave him a connection, a sense of belonging to the one thing he’d never have: a family.

(So, what if it wasn’t his own.)

He didn’t know what conventional families were supposed to be like. So, if it was bizarre that he’d become a frequent presence at the Bakers’ home, no one told him.

Will accepted Mike’s frequent presence in their home upfront, without any resentment or envy. Befriending him was easy and uncomplicated; for the most part he was an affable, unassuming kid, docile compared to his hellion of a sister. 

Janet was a sweet, and nurturing woman, very unlike his own moody, impulsive mother. She didn’t perceive him a nuisance or throw him annoyed looks like Mrs. Grissom did whenever Dave spent extra time with him. She helped him with his homework and made sure he was always fed. Mike made it a point to be worthy of his unofficial adoption into the Baker household by helping her with errands and chores. (As result, he spent a great deal of time babysitting Will and Ginny.) It was blatantly clear Janet loathed Baseball. She openly and vocally censured ‘Bill’ for: “indoctrinating an impressionable little girl, rather than letting her find her own interests.” (Mike had no clue what all those big words meant at the time).

Little Ginny was his tail. When she wasn’t following her father or her brother, she would trail behind Mike like a little duckling that was prepared to follow him to the ends to the earth. The other boys constantly made jokes about it, but Mike was too cool to take offence. The adulation in her eyes made him feel like he mattered, like he was important. He didn't get that from anyone else.

Mike didn’t know much of what regular Dads did with their kids.  He had spent many wistful hours watching fathers bond with their _sons_ over baseball, and after the brief introduction of his biological father into his life, young Mike daydreamed about doing the same with Dave Grissom.

In the Bakers’ case, it was extraordinarily different.

It was no secret that the little girl was her Daddy’s darling (lord knows, she was the darling of everyone who crossed paths with her, including her relatively neglected brother and Mike). Like everyone else, Mike thought that Coach was just indulging Ginny’s proclivity for throwing things (mostly she loved throwing things at Mike). 

When that no longer made sense then Mike assumed it was because Will was too relaxed about baseball. (Maximum enjoyment with minimum effort was Will Baker’s MO and it conflicted with Coach Baker’s serious and determined approach to the game.)

Closer observation of father and daughter that made him comprehend it was a training of sorts. Coach kept setting higher expectations in subtle increments and Ginny met them every time. It wasn’t long after Mike’s realization that Ginny had a gift for throwing that he realized her father saw it before anyone else did.

She was being groomed for a professional career just like he was, but in an entirely different way.

 

* * *

 

She might as well tell him she’s got some terminal disease.

“I'm sorry, what?” Mike roars.

“I said, I’m not going to the minors.” She yells, like he’s a deaf old man.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.” She looks away.

“Baker, ‘m serious. You can’t be saying shit like that.”

“I’m serious too.” She looks at him solemnly. “I’m not going.”

“Why?”

She looks forlorn, she shakes her head and looks down.

“Baker!” He nudges her.

“I don’t want to talk about it ‘kay!” She bursts out.

“Rookiebean.” Mike sighs, punching her arm without force. “I’m done being nice now. Spill!”

“How many times have I told you _not_ to call me that!” She roars.

Mike lifts his palms up defensively and changes his tone. “Okay if you’re not going to the minors, where are you going?”

She shrugs. “Told you. Anywhere’s good.”

“Where’s ‘anywhere’?” He prods.

“Anywhere where nobody knows me.”

“Now why would you wanna do that?”

“So, I can live my life.”

“Who’s stopping you from livin’ it now?”

She makes that cynical noise again.

Mike sighs and scratches his stubble exasperatedly, and she notices. “What’s with the…” She makes a disgusted face pointing to his scruff. “They don’t have razors in Texas?”

Mike grimaces triumphantly and rubs his beard. “I’m growing it.”

That doesn’t impress her. She looks more repulsed. “Why?”

“The ladies love it.” He comments wryly. “All the major-leaguers have it.”

“Ladies?” She snorts. She makes a girly face, bats her eyelids artificially. “What happened to your one true lady love? Does she approve?”

Mike’s smile wanes.

“Oh.” Sheepishness overcomes her. “You broke up With Rachel?”

“She broke up with me.”

“’M Sorry.” She looks down.

“No, you’re not.” Mike calls her out on it.

Her jaw drops and she gapes at him.

“Don’t think I didn’t know you didn’t care for her.” He smirks. “I saw the faces you made behind our backs.” He snorts, remembering the disgusted expression Ginny made when she walked in on him and Rachel bonking.

She shuts her mouth and mums her lips. Mike knows she’s suppressing a smile. “You’re right I’m not.” She answers.

He clucks his tongue at her in mock disdain.

She shrugs pretentiously. “She wasn’t good enough for you. You deserved better.”

Of course, only Ginny would think of him as ‘deserving’.

See, when Mike thinks of it, Ginny Baker’s the only girl who’s genuinely loved him since they knew each other. And he’s loved her back. (Not in a sexual way, because that would just be weird and creepy.)

 

* * *

 

It happened on Ginny’s fifth birthday, his second year in Tarboro.

Coach left Ginny at the ballpark in their care because he had to leave early to pick up the cake. Blip, Will and him were playing casually when a group of older kids came by. One of them, a surly seventh grader from Mike’s school had a peculiar hatred for both Mike and Will (apparently, Coach Baker had cut him from the team last year). Disinclined to give up their spot, Mike stood his ground facing off against a bully thrice his size. It led to a shoving match, until Mike was thrown to the ground pinned under his opponent’s entire tackling bulk.

_Thwack!_

A yelping noise trilled in his face. His assailant scrambled off, grabbing his ear.

_Thwack!_

The boy yowled, reeling, tipping backwards, landing on his butt. Mike clambered up, coughing and sputtering, hastily brushing off the dust in his face and hair. He reached his hand out instinctively as that third ball that came zipping through the air, catching it, preventing it from reaching its intended aim.

He frantically sought the source, not surprised to find his pint-sized avenging angel winding up like a pro with far too much fury that befit the face of a pre-schooler.

Mike captured the fourth angry ball mid-flight as he ran to her, Will and Blip fast on his heels. He caught her hand and dragged her with them and they scurried off the field, the bigger kids chasing after them unsuccessfully .

 

The boy’s parents came over the same evening to the Bakers' while the party was in full swing, accusing Ginny of rupturing the boy’s eardrum.

“That’s not true! It was me!” Mike protested, bursting into the room while the adults argued. “She’s five, Coach! C’mon! You think she can throw hard enough?”

Coach knew damn well she could throw hard enough. He gave Mike a frustrated look of disapproval.

“It wadn’t him, Pop! It was me.” The birthday girl ran in before he had a chance to reprimand Mike on the intrusion with her face covered with cake. “He a mean boy, Pop! He beatin’ Mikey!” She screeched looking at the parents of the boy with weepy accusatory eyes. “An’ an’ an’, he wouldn’t stop beatin’ him Pop! I just got real mad, Pop! Real mad!”

Blip and Will followed in, because far be it from them to back down from escalating a drama. Somewhere along the loud voices and the rising tensions (for all her gumption, she was only five, so -) Ginny starting wailing.

And Mike hugged her.

Her tears drove him crazy. Maybe it was because she rarely cried or maybe he was just absurdly wanted to shield her from everything. (Janet would always hug Ginny whenever she looked sad, and Mike had to work). 

Didn’t work. She cried even harder.

He got cake and snot all over his only good buttondown.

 

“What if they throw me in kid jail?” She asked him later, after the chaos had settled and some resolution had been achieved among the adults. “I’s a melon.”

(She meant ‘felon’.) “They won’t.” He consoled her. “You’re not a _fe-_ lon.”

“ _Fe-_ lon.” She repeated. “Them Brewers won’t let me pitch if I got throw’d in kid jail before I was eight.” She said.

“Says who?”

“Says Stubby. His big brother is in jupie and he says he can’t ever play ball ‘cuz’ve that. He set fire to their barn last year and that’s where they sent ‘im.”

(Mike was positive she meant ‘juvie’ because that was where the older Stubbs was spending the year.) “Aww, they can’t touch you, Ginnybean.” Mike patted her back.

She didn’t look convinced.

“Hey! Wanna hear a secret? Next year Coach says you’re gonna be a playin’ on our team.” He lies (because – she was five and it was her birthday! She would forget everything as soon as he distracted her. And if it evoked that big toothy dimpled smile she was giving him, what was the harm?)

“And then you won’t be calling me Ginnybean anymore?” She looked excited.

“You don’t like it?” He was surprised.

She shook her head. “Not when _you_ call me that.” She sighs. “It’s a baby name and I ain’t a baby no more, Mikey. I’m _five_!” She sticks an open palm with splayed fingers in his face to reiterate her point.

“How about Rookiebean!” He asks. “’Cuz you’ll be a rookie but you’ll still be a bean.”

Her face scrunched up, her little brow puckered and her mouth puffed into pout. She lifted her hand to pinch her mouth like she did when she was mulling something over in that noggin. Mike pulled her wrist off her face (because that’s what he’d seen Janet do and he assumed there was some grownup consequence to that quirk.)

“You promise?” She said, looking at him solemnly.

“I promise.” He sticks out his little finger. “Here, let’s pinky swear.”

She made a disgusting noise and spat into her hand, holding it out for him. Mike was grossed out, but he shook on it anyway.

 

* * *

 

Mike cocks his head and tries to get view of her face. “What happened?”

Her eyes get wet but she blinks rapidly and they’re not teary anymore.

“Nothin’.” She shrugs.

“Baker.”

She turns her body to look away.

“Why are you leaving town?” He ignores her.

She rolls her eyes.  “I’m nineteen! I can do what I want.”

“Woah, wait.” He snorts. “You’re not nineteen!” He scratches his nascent beard. “Your birthday is…” He mentally counts the dates and-

_Oh shit._

“Belated happy birthday.” He mutters, feeling guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t call.”

“You never call.” She shrugs, like it didn't matter.

“I do!” He takes offence. (In fact, he helped _plan_ several of her birthday parties. Some of his best memories involved were her birthdays.)

“No, you don’t.” She protests. “Wishing me when you’re in town doesn’t count, ‘cause then you _have_ to remember…nobody would let you forget.”

She’s got a point there. Everyone around him knew Ginny Baker.

 

* * *

 

Ginny on the mound, was a remarkable sight. She was confident, meticulous, unyielding, and unaffected by jibes, taunts and catcalls and that screwball was undeniably perfect. Mike looked forward to coming home to Tarboro in the off-seasons just to see her progress. With each passing year, he was convinced that Ginny Baker was a solid contender for the major leagues and her father’s demanding methods were the secret behind it.

The story behind the scenes wasn’t as pretty as the superlative female pitcher she grew up to be.

As they grew up, Bill became less father and more coach to Ginny. Though exceptionally dedicated as a coach, Bill Baker as a parent had Mike convinced that there were worse things than an absentee father. 

There were days Mike felt her training bordered on abuse.

That one time watching Ginny throw nectarine after nectarine without a moment’s respite was painful; Mike stuck around after mowing the lawn, worried that she might collapse from exhaustion. One night while he was fixing a leaky faucet for Janet, he was alerted by a loud smack followed by Ginny’s cry. He looked out the window horrified, as Coach’s hand connected with a sobbing Will’s cheek for what looked like the second time, heartlessly ordering Ginny to throw a strike. She delivered beautifully but it was brutal to watch. He felt powerless.

He agreed with Janet’s dissensions that Coach cruelly ignored Ginny’s growing pains as much as her natural feminine wants and wishes. He would not contest that Coach manipulated Ginny’s need for acceptance by goading her into pitching better. As much as he loved and cared for the Bakers, Mike knew it wasn’t his place to interfere.

Whether it was necessary evil or just unrequired cruelty, only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

“Okay – how’s this?” He placates. “Tell me what’s going on and I’ll drop you to the bus station. You don’t have to sit out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Will’s probably staking it out.”

“So, Will knows what’s going on?”

She looks a little edgy. Like she’s afraid she’s let on too much.

“No – not exactly _what_ is going on.” She drops her face.

“I’ll deal with him.” Mike promises. “I’ll let you get on the bus to wherever you wanna go.”  He promises. “Pinky swear.” He wiggles his little finger out.

She looks at him with disbelief and shakes her head.

“C’mon…Rookiebean.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Okay. C’mon Rookie.” He offers.

She doesn’t respond.

“Baker?”

Silence.

“Ginny?” He nudges her.

“I’m just…tired, Mike.” She rubs her face. “I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What? Play baseball.”

“No! I – I wanna play baseball,” she answers quickly. “I just…don’t wanna do it this way.”

“What way is that?”

“Be the outsider – _the girl_ on the team.”

“That’s not bothered you before.”

“Yeah, but it’s never gonna change.” She sighs. “And it’s like – I wanna play with the boys, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a girl. And I don’t see what’s wrong with being a girl – y’know. But, it’s like I _have_ to be tough, I _have_ to be insensitive to all the things they do and say.”

“Baker, come on – that’s not a reason to give up.” Mike barks. "And _who_ said what?

“Nobody.” She answers quickly. “And I know it’s not a reason to give up. But. It’s not the same for me like it is for you. You can play baseball and have a life. Y’know? You can fall in love, _date_ \- whomever you want. You don’t have to deal with motives and intentions. Like if they’re into you ‘cause they really like you or if you’re just some notch that has to be engraved on their lumber. You don’t have to worry about being called a desperate slut just ‘cause you wanted to share…” She trials off and sighs.

Oh, so that’s what this was about.

“Who was it?” Mike bites out.

“What?”

“Who broke your heart?”

“Nobody. And my heart's fine, thank you very much.”

“What’s nobody’s name?”

She closes her eyes, sticks out her jaw and hisses.

“Trevor Davis?” Mike echoes. “Seriously? You’re still seeing that douche.”

“Mike, would you just stop!” She huffs. “I already have a big brother!”

(Now, here’s the thing:

Mike isn’t a perv. But, their situation is complicated.

He grew up with this family. Ginny was so much younger than him. If Will was the big brother, everyone always assumed Mike was the bigger brother. And the protectiveness he displayed didn’t really do much to correct that assumption.

Truth be told it irritated him when people alluded to Ginny as his sister.  

The fact that he cared a great deal about her, made him possessive by default and it complicated things. He was a man, unrelated by blood, with functioning man parts. Over the past ten years or so, he deliberately started keeping a distance when he realized he was _noticing_ her as more than just his little duckling. 

It’s not that he ever thought of her – like that – not ever. Not even in a wet dream. He didn’t lust after her like some debased sexual predator – ‘cause that would just be wrong.

It's just that he loved her in a non-sexual way, but he certainly did _not_  see her as a sibling either.

The idea of her dating anyone filled him with negative emotions that could not be described. He kept them tightly hidden under good humour and forced rationality. The idea of her as a sexual being freaked him the fuck out. The idea of any hormonal dweeb touching her intimately just made him want to break something.

He honestly didn’t know what his feelings for Ginny could be labelled as but they were definitely _not_ brotherly.)

“It’s my body.” She mutters, distracting him from his thoughts. “It’s nobody’s damn business but mine.”

(Now there’s a feeling he can describe. It comes up when he sees that hurt look on her face. It's murder.)

“What did he do? Mike grinds out.

“Nothing.”

“Baker.” Mike hisses. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“No!” She protests. “That’s the answer. He didn’t do anything. It was – it was a little gross and painful. Maybe I freaked out.”

Mike blinks, feeling awkward. “Why?” He blurts, without thinking, “It’s not like you’re clueless about sex.”

Ginny turns her head slowly and looks at him disbelief.

Mike coughs. “I’m sorry, what?” He grimaces. “You’ve never…?”

“Hey!” She mocks. “I got an idea, _Mikey_. Why don’t you tell me use that stupid _man-_ brain of yours and recall the last…” She mocks a face shrug. “I dunno – five maybe six? years. When exactly have you seen me hanging out with a boy that didn’t involve a baseball and a glove?”

The answer to that is never. But, Mike keeps his trap shut. Ginny’s making that face, that menacing pinched clenching of her jaw that she reserved for beaning the hell out of bullies and rupturing their eardrums if needed.

She’s got a point. Given how strict Bill was, and how Mike and Will were usually hovering over Ginny, it shouldn’t have surprised him that she was a…

“So, um – you, you’ve never – um – you’re a - you’re a virgin.” He croaks.

(Stating the obvious, not a good move. He gets that look in response to his stupid comment again.)

She shakes her head. “For the record, I wasn’t plannin’ on being one for long.” She mutters.

Something occurs to him.

“Wait.” He says, forgetting all mountain pile of weirdness and discomfiture. “Is that what this is about? You leaving town?”

Ginny sighs, goes back to looking anywhere but at him again. But Mike’s not in too obliging a mood. He catches her shoulder and shakes her until she’s turning around and looking at him.

“Did one of those losers try to trick you into doing something you didn’t wanna do, Rookie?” Mike asks with grave concern.

Ginny’s eyes get all shiny and watery.

“I didn’t go through with it.” She whispers. “I told you I frea-”

“Okay, but – that’s not what I’m asking.” Mike cuts her off. “You wanted to do it, right? Before you freaked out?”

“I guess I did.”

“You guess?” Mike snorts. “Ginny, either you wanted to or you didn’t.”

"I..." Ginny looks hesitant and reluctant. A tear finally breaks through. "I guess I didn't know. Maybe I’m an idiot, then.” 

**Author's Note:**

> next ch is ginny's pov...  
> Too OOC? Unpalatable?  
> or  
> Do you want to read more...?


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